my daily bread.

French bread must be tainted with a sort of addictive narcotic. I just can't get enough. I don't drink as much coffee or tea here as I do at home, and my caffeine-dependency headaches frequently make their presence known, but this bread addiction is something else entirely.


I spent last weekend in London, visiting Colleen and Matt, and I even got to spend some time with Paula and Ju, although unfortunately not as much as I would have liked. Colleen's friends threw a party on Friday night, and because the English freshmen are English freshmen, the party's title was GLOW and we were expected to dress the part.
Armed with neon paint from Poundworld and Hanes men's undershirts, Coll and I transformed old t-shirts into magnificent (and witty!) costumes, with the help of neon tights and glittery bangles. God bless Primark.

"Costume? My hair IS my costume."

I took myself on a little walking tour during the day, as Colleen had a full day of classes and Matt is now working at the Royal Bank of Scotland. We met for lunch, and afterwards I meandered along Oxford Street, saw Piccadilly Circus and Covent Garden, and perused the tabloid that Londoners call their daily metro paper. Instead of learning about Sarkozy's latest snub, I got to see what Bob Geldof's kids wore to their latest birthday party. Who needs real news when you've got celeb goss?!



After meeting Matt for dinner at an Indian restaurant on Brick Lane, Colleen and I went to the party sufficiently decked out and ready for a good time.

If this isn't appropriate "glow-wear", then I don't know what is.

The next morning, much to our chagrin, we found that the water had been turned off throughout the building as work was being done on the pipes. After a short meeting, we decided to head to Leicester Square to meet Ju and Paula for the Ireland v. England rugby match. I threw my facewash, toothbrush, and some makeup into my bag and we freshened up in the bathroom of the pub. It was hilarious.
Unfortunately, Ireland lost the match, but Matt, Colleen, and I got to see Ju and Paula and chat a bit before parting ways for dinner. I grabbed fish and chips at a pub with Matt before going to see his room in South Kensington, where I met his roommates and hung out a bit before going back to Mile End with Coll.

Paula, me, Coll, Ju, Matt (sleeping?)

It was a great trip and although I didn't stay for the St. Patrick's Day festivities, I was all celebrated out nonetheless. I'm luckily going back in April, en route to Budapest for spring break!

Our group went to see an opera called "Zampa" on the night of March 17th, and therefore, celebratory activities were limited to two drinks at a bar called O'Sullivan's after the three-hour performance. After paying 7 euros for a pint of cider, I preceded my next order by asking the bartender if there was any discount for "real Irish people". He looked at me, left my Guinness to settle on the bar, and refused payment, saying in his English accent, "There's your discount then." It made my night.

Niamh arrives on Monday morning, and I don't know if I'm prepared for the onslaught of sightseeing and activity her visit will inevitably bring. Unfortunately, I've been stuck with my first grammar test on Wednesday, as well as a petit résumé of "Bonjour Tristesse," a novel by French writer Françoise Sagan. I have a midterm on Thursday night for my History of France class, but luckily, that shouldn't be any chore for Niamh as she's quite enamored of l'histoire de la France. We have lots to see and I'm so excited for her to see my life here in Paris; although I have classes and homework this week, she speaks French well and will be glad to wander around herself a bit.


Paris never disappoints. I was feeling down earlier, and finding the trials of forced friendships preoccupying. I sat on the computer for too long, worrying about class registration, internships, the schoolwork of the upcoming week-- and then I decided to throw on some clothes and go out. I'm learning the art of being alone.
I sat in a café today after venturing to Montmartre for cheap postcards. The following is from those few hours:

I love the life of this city: the way it breathes, moves, seems to be a living being. Depending on my mood, Paris can be the coldest, loneliest space possible, but I think that the city is the best friend I've got here. It's just right. I love that little babies wear bonnets that fasten under the chin. I love the couple I see walking past this café right now, sporting identical knit green hats. I love that I meant to walk outside for just a breath of fresh air when I left the foyer over two hours ago. Only in Paris could I eat a delicious meal in the middle of the afternoon, in the same space that cigarettes in brightly colored packages are sold to busy people on their lunch breaks. Two girls sat outside under the canopy with their picnic lunch, just purchased at the market I can see from this window, as first the rain fell, then hailstones. The owner didn't mind their presence. Now they're inside, hands wrapped around steaming drinks.
The woman who I've seen looking in my direction out of the corner of my eye is on her third coffee, and I know she'll order another before leaving. I've been sitting here for about two hours. My croque madame and salad are long gone, I've order and subsequently finished a café crème, and all the waiter has said to me since is, "Ca va?" He knows I'm in no rush, and therefore he relaxes as well. It's really another world over here.

in like a lion...

I guess what I've been waiting for since Day One (now over two months ago!) is a routine. I like to think I'm compulsive and willing to take a chance on what each day brings, but I've found I may be a sucker for schedules after all.
But Paris hasn't really allowed me that.
And so, today I feel at peace knowing that I might have started to accept that, and had to content myself with a balance between the possibility of something new every day, as well as a little routine when the time allows.

My thirst for "normalcy" comes after over a week of visitors, museums, and touring the city I now call home. I had such a great time showing everyone around, from De last week to Maura, Becky, and Coll this past weekend. I think I've probably attained some sort of tour guide certificate at this point, but I can't take all the credit, as everyone was a trooper and paced the entire city mainly on foot, in order to minimize the 1.50 euro metro rides.



I got to see Paris from Sacre Coeur at nightfall, even if it was too cloudy to catch the sunset. I found I'm not the only one with an appreciation for Shakespeare & Co., and all the magic its shelves and visitors carry. I ate three crêpes in two days, thanks to the ever-faithful appetites of my roommates. I drank my cheapest pint of beer yet to be found in Paris, going for a mere 2.60, while the neon lights of Pigalle's "SEXODROME" glared in the background. I stole a sign from a bar by mistake (sort of) and finally figured out the ever-enigmatic night-bus, or Noctilien. I coerced my roommates into posing for jumping pictures on the Champs de Mars, again as hunchbacks at Notre Dame, and, when my wallet grew light on Sunday, mildly considered posing as a gypsy with a pashmina around my head, asking for English-speakers to help feed my hungry family at home.








I just can't complain.
Some of the most interesting conversations of the weekend were with the girls as we compared London and Paris, and the different experiences Coll and I are having as Villanova kids studying abroad for six months. Luckily for me, I get to go and see her London life first-hand this weekend, as I'll be taking the Eurostar under the English Channel on Thursday night. I'll also get to see not only Colleen and Matt, but Paula, Ju, and hopefully Andy too, as the St. Patrick's Day parade in Londontown calls.

Mondays aren't the best days, as most people know, and I found it hard to get out of bed for 9:00 class this morning after chatting to my family until the early hours. As we reviewed imparfait and passé composé yet AGAIN in class, gale winds roared outside and it poured with rain. After returning to the foyer after class finished at noon, I finished watching "The Graduate" and then, to my surprise, saw that the rain had cleared and the showers promised to hold back for a little while. I grudgingly pulled on leggings and my running shoes, and headed to Parc Monceau, only to find the gates closed, so I had to content myself with its periphery. There's nothing quite like being able to see the Arc de Triomphe, knowing the Champs Elysée is mere steps away, while going for an afternoon run.
I came home and grabbed my wallet, then made a visit to the Franprix around the corner. I discovered an "Agriculture Biologique" bakery on the way to school the other day, so after filling my shopping bag with goodies, I stopped there on the way back to Foyer de Naples for a fresh baguette.




If every Monday routine can be like today's, I'll never dread Sunday nights again.

a picnic, a panic, and presque le printemps!

St. Germain-des-Près

I saw my first "to-go" insulated coffee mug this morning, in the hands of a highly animated French man. Not only that, I saw its twin on the desk of one of my classmates this afternoon! Espresso just doesn't work that well with to-go cups I suppose, but it seems that Starbucks is making its mark in France nonetheless.

So I find myself sitting here, waiting for my nails to dry, clean and tired, after a whirlwind of a weekend with De. She arrived bright and early on Friday morning, and somewhere between the picnics outside Sacre Coeur in Montmartre, the nights out gallavanting in front of the Eiffel Tower, and fondue dinners in the Latin Quarter, six days passed and now she's (hopefully) almost back in Philadelphia.

Eiffel Tower from the hill

While we had a great weekend, I can't say I ever want to become a tour guide. I did enjoy playing tourist, however, and taking advantage of the "free first Sunday of the month" special at the Louvre. I've never been before, despite my previous visits to the city, and I was really blown away. The crowds were a little too much, but seeing the magnificent sculptures and works of art recognized almost worldwide was just incredible. I've really developed more of an appreciation for sculpture since being here, if only because I know I could never create something as beautiful as Winged Victory.

Bracing the wind in front of the Louvre



Winged Victory

De and I spent Saturday exploring Montmartre, a neighborhood I've visited before but without so much free time. The sky was so blue and clouds so few that we couldn't resist ducking into the nearest supermarché for a half bottle of red wine, some camembert, and a baguette. We settled ourselves on the steep lawn in front of the Sacre Coeur, and looked out over Paris as we ate lunch.

Looking out at the view from Sacre Coeur



Pique-nique!

Musicians in one of the many squares

I also got to discover a bit of the Bastille for the first time; my roommate is forever telling me to head over there one night for cheap student deals. With a lot of French students currently on break, we couldn't find much of a dancing scene but the bars were decent enough... although still not that cheap!

On Sunday, I decided that although house rules state no guests, I would attempt to get De inside so we could cook here in the kitchen instead of spending more money on a dinner out. It worked perfectly well, as no one made a comment when she walked upstairs with me, but after I had shown her my digs and eaten a yummy pasta dinner, I walked her downstairs only to get interrogated by the man sitting at the front desk. He demanded her room number, and when I replied that she was just my friend visiting for "a few minutes", he shook his head and reminded me that I was forbidden from having any guests. I informed him I had spoken to La Directrice the night before, but he obviously doubted me and told me he would check with her the next day.
I spent the entire night worrying that I was going to be kicked out on the street. Anne, in an attempt to make me feel better, informed me that a girl down the hall had had a crazy party two nights ago, and was given five days' notice before she had to evacuate the premises. Not much of a comfort, but so far nothing has been said and I still have a place to sleep.

Sunday-afternoon crêpes in front of Notre Dame

Gorgeous macaroons at Laduree:
framboise, fleur d'orange, blackcurrant, chocolat noir

Today I had my first real French education hurdle to conquer. I was assigned an "exposition" which is basically just an oral presentation, commonly required a few times a semester. Myself and another girl, Kathryn, had to comment for fifteen minutes on the French government's ban of religious attire in public schools, and after researching exactly why the government has taken this position, I find myself understanding a bit more the strange way in which French people view their liberty.
After the revolution, everything that had been aligned with the monarchy, a.k.a. the Church, was deemed oppressive, and so, like I saw in Loche when I visited in January, many statues of saints in cathedrals have no heads, a reminder of the destruction after the monarchy fell. French people became seen purely as citizens of the Republic, not associated with any group other than the state. State schools, then, cannot accept any sort of outward sign of religious belief, as that contradicts "liberté" in the French sense. Showing one is religious is demonstrating participation as a member of a group, and not as a pure citizen of the state.

Therefore, I've come to conclude that this might be where the strong pride and snobbishness of many French people, especially Parisians, comes from. After winning their liberty and the right to exist simply as citizens and for themselves, the French hesitate when anything seems to threaten that liberty, their autonomy, including when people bash into them on the metro, during rush hour on Wednesdays.

But I digress.

Welsh 312 arrives tomorrow! Becky and Maura want to take advantage of the full day, and are coming in on a 9 a.m. Eurostar; Coll will get to the city around 7 p.m. In all honesty, as tiring as it may be, I love getting to play tour guide and getting to see the museums and neighborhoods I could just as easily pass by. I have no plans as of yet, but I'm sure the weekend will be filled with crêpes, fondue, and possibly one or two things not involving food. The Musée d'Orsay is free tomorrow evening for students, so I think we'll go there and maybe the Louvre on Friday, because I think I could visit every weekend from now until June and still not see it all.

Springtime in the air in the Marais!

Keep the comments coming! Miss you all.

Oh, and HAPPY 15TH BIRTHDAY MOOGS! My little sister isn't so little anymore.